


The Execution of All Things

by sas



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Alternate Universe - World War II, Angst, Danger, Donuts, F/F, Forbidden Love, Happy Ending, Nazis are using rogue werewolves to help them fight, Nurse!Lydia, So many fluffy emotions, Soldier!Allison, The Allied forces set up a Company to fight them, World War II, long walks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 01:37:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2369663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sas/pseuds/sas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1944 in Southern France. Lydia Martin is a training nurse on a military base. She befriends a young officer. However, with women's position in the military being tentative as it stands, their developing feelings stand to complicate matters.</p><p>Or</p><p>The Allydia WWII AU no one asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Execution of All Things

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys. I haven't actually posted any Allydia stuff before but I feel like I should start? I'm not really sure why I decided to write a WWII AU. 
> 
> The title is the title of a Rilo Kiley song/album because everything that band has written gives me Allydia feels, but the album The Execution of All Things gives me srs Allydia WWII feels?
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

When Lydia picked up the chart and read “First Lieutenant A. Argent”, no particular image came to her mind. However, when she reached the cot, she found herself incredibly surprised. A woman, not much older than herself, was sitting there cross-legged and wearing fatigues. Her dark brown hair was pulled up into a pile at the top of her head, and she was idly looking around. The name-tag certified that this young woman was indeed First Lieutenant A. Argent. She tried to push her shock down, to be professional.

 

“Lieutenant Argent. How are we today?”

 

The smile that answered her was stunning, all white teeth and dimples and sparkling eyes.

 

“I’m doing fine, I just seem to have lost all the coordination I had.” By way of explanation, she raised her left hand for Lydia to see. A large, angry gash glistened across her whole palm.

 

“Ouch. How did you do that?”

 

“I’m not entirely sure, if I’m honest. I had an arrow nocked, but I loosened my grip on the draw and somehow the arrow made it’s way across my hand. I feel like such a klutz.”

 

Lydia couldn’t help but smile. The officer looked so bashful, a light blush creeping up her neck and on to her face.

 

“Well,” Lydia moved to gather some supplies from the supply trolley beside the next cot, “let’s take a look, shall we?” Loading some cloth with iodine, Lydia leaned into the Lieutenant’s space, taking the injured hand in to her lap and rubbing at it tentatively with the disinfectant. The officer didn’t even wince. “Hmm. Not too deep,” Lydia noted, then she wrapped a length of gauze around it, “no stitches. It should heal itself up nicely in a week or two.”

  
  


“Great.” The officer smiled, but she made no attempt to move or withdraw her hand.

 

“Will that be everything, Lieutenant?”

 

“I’d like to know your name.” Her smile was dazzling, she smiled with her whole face. Lydia was helpless to combat it, a wide smile taking up residence on her own face.

 

“My name?” She made a thoughtful sound. “The other officers have given me somewhat of a nickname. You, Lieutenant, can call me that.”

 

The Lieutenant leaned into the nurse’s space, softly asking, “and what is that?”

 

Lydia smirked, looked right into a set of warm brown eyes and whispered, “Nurse.”

 

A small laugh slipped out of the brunette’s mouth. “Okay,” she held her hands up, signing defeat, “I hope I’ll be seeing you around, Nurse.” With that, she stood and left, the same bright smile on her face.

 

Her curiosity piqued, Lydia picked up the chart she had lain down on the end of the cot. She flicked it open and scanned the credentials.

 

“Allison,” she smiled.

  
  


* * *

 

It was less than a week before Allison was back in the Medics' tent. Another malfunction of her weapon, she assured Lydia. Then, four days after that, she limped in, supported by a tall black officer. He deposited her on the closest empty cot, nodded at her, and left.

 

Lydia walked over, her eyebrow raised.

 

“I rolled my ankle during drills today.” Allison bleated before she pushed herself back on her elbows and raised the ankle in question out for Lydia to examine.

 

“My, my, Lieutenant, you’ve become quite the accident-magnet.”

 

Allison smirked, “I guess I’ve been distracted lately.”

 

“Well, you have been in this tent a number of times over the last few weeks. If this keeps up, we may have to get you discharged on the grounds of your being a liability on the Front.”

 

“Well, Nurse. I wouldn’t have to keep coming back here if you would just tell me your name.”

 

“Officer!” Lydia feigned shock. “Are you implying that you have purposely injured yourself—while on active duty, I might add—simply to badger me for my name?”

 

Allison just arched her eyebrow, a cheeky glint in her eye.

 

“Fine. If it means you’ll stop injuring yourself: my name is Lydia.”

 

“Nurse Lydia.” Allison smiled.

 

* * *

 

“So,” her voice was barely more than a whisper, “I think we should do something that doesn’t involve you torturing me with iodine.”

 

“Well, I wouldn’t keep torturing you if you didn’t keep hurting yourself so foolishly.”

 

“Come on, Lydia. Come for a walk with me.”

 

After rolling her eyes at the brunette, Lydia agreed. They decided to meet after Lydia had finished work for the day. Allison was waiting for her, a cloth bag in hand, when she left the tent.

 

“So, where are we going?”

 

“I know a really nice place, come on.” Allison took the redhead’s hand and started dragging her toward the rear of the base. While the base was on mostly flat ground, the back end sloped upwards into a large hill, the other side of which fenced them in. When they reached the top of the hill, Allison pulled Lydia down on to the grass, facing toward the fence. When Lydia was settled, she took a second to admire the view. There were neatly squared-off fields, bordered by large trees, reaching as far as the horizon.

 

“I brought something.” Allison smiled, and butterflies erupted in Lydia’s stomach. She pulled the cloth bag she was carrying into her lap. From it, she produced two misshapen balls covered in sugar.

 

“Oh my god, where did you get donuts?”

 

“I stole them from the mess. I know you love them.”

 

Lydia happily snatched one of the doughy lumps and bit in to it greedily. The sound she made forced a light blush to bloom high up on to Allison’s cheeks.

 

Between mouthfuls, Lydia smiled, “well, aside from what I know—which is that you are incredibly accident prone, or you enjoy the smell of the Medics' tent—tell me about yourself. What brought you out to the front?”

 

“I was recruited, specifically for my unit.”

 

“Which unit?”

 

“I’m part of the Second Battalion, La Bete Company.”

 

“The werewolf hunters?” Lydia's voice was earnest, intrigued.

 

Allison laughed. “Is there anything you don’t know?”

 

“I don’t know a whole bunch about it, really. Just what I’ve heard on the ward, soldiers who’ve seen the Company fight.”

 

“ We try to keep what we do low-key. Basically, when the Third and Fourth Battalions were established, so was the Second. We had some intel' that the Axis Powers were recruiting supernatural creatures for their  _Gestaltwandler_ division, and we needed a team that could respond. Families like mine were contacted.”

 

“Families like yours?” Lydia popped the last of the donut into her mouth, then brushed the sugar off of her uniform.

 

“My family has a really long history of hunting rogue werewolves, protecting territories. When we were contacted, my father and two cousins enlisted straight away. They were reluctant to have me join, because I’m a woman, but because of my standing in the family, and my family’s reputation among hunters, they couldn’t really turn me away. My mother and her sister are working in advisory positions back home, as well.”

 

Lydia reached out tentatively and ran the tip of her finger across a small scar on Allison’s jaw. “Is that how you got this?”

 

Allison nodded, “In a fight with a werewolf.”

 

“ A soldier with the  _Gestaltwandler_?”

 

“No, when I was younger. I’ve been doing this a long time.”

 

Lydia smiled softly, nodded. A moment passed between them, the silence feeling comfortable.

 

“You know, my family is a little bit supernatural, too.”

 

Allison leaned closer, obviously interested.

 

“My grandmother. We thought for a long time that she was unwell, you know, funny in the head. She used to hear things, voices that weren’t there. She said it was something that started when she left Ireland. She would joke about being a Wailing Woman.”

 

“Did you know her well?”

 

Lydia’s face grew darker. “No, not really. My father, he didn’t really understand. He thought she had become unhinged. He had her admitted to a mental institution. When medication didn’t sedate her enough, they tried more aggressive treatment. By the time she died, there was barely anything of her mind left.”

 

Allison reached out, took the nurse’s hand and squeezed it lightly.

  
  


Lydia gave her a small smile, then continued. “She left a lot of journals, though. Wrote stories her own mother has told her about the Bean Shith. She wrote about people she had heard dying—actually physically heard their death—who ended up dead a day or two later. She knew this was something that had passed down to her. When I looked in to it more, I couldn’t believe it at first. A banshee. Predicting deaths. But everything checked out. She had journal entries dated, and obituary notices from a day or two following it.”

 

“My grandpa used to speak about a banshee he knew. I always thought it would be interesting to speak to one.”

 

“I get worried sometimes, you know. I think I can hear things, things that aren’t really there, but they’re never clear. It’s like I’m hovering right before the right radio channel but I can’t quite turn the dial.”

 

“Do you think she passed it down to you?”

 

“I don’t know. That’s just some days. Mostly when I’m lying in bed. But then again, out here, it’s hard not to have death on your mind. It’s all around us.” She scrubbed her small hands across her face, “maybe I’m just being paranoid.”

 

Allison smiled at her, small and sad and heavy. After a beat, they continued talking, telling each other about their lives, their friends back home. They compared stories of how they grew up: Lydia in San Francisco, Allison in rural Southern California. They talked about their favourite movies, the music they liked, the first meal they'd have when they got home, how much they missed good coffee. They talked for a long time about Allison's family's code, her experience with werewolves (good and bad), about Lydia's fears over the powers her grandmother had, the fears that she may have inherited them, the hope that she could use them in her career to help people. Before they knew it, orange light was streaking the grey sky.

  
  


* * *

 

After that, walks around the base became a nightly occurrence, whenever Allison wasn't out on assignment. They would walk slowly, conversation never lulling, learning things about each other all the time. Allison believed that they were gaining ground and heading in the same direction.

 

She realised she was wrong the night she first tried to kiss Lydia. When she had leaned close, eyes fluttering shut and lips parted, Lydia pulled back, turned away. Blood rushed to the cool surface of the skin across Allison’s face, turning her bright pink.

 

“Lyd—I’m so sorry, I thought…”

 

Lydia began flailing her arms in front of her, her voice sounding harried. “Ally, do you realise what could happen to us if we get caught?”

 

“I don’t care. Lydia, I fight monsters—real life, fangs-and-claws monsters—for these people. They are not happy about letting a woman into their Army but they are more than happy to put me on the Front Line. They underestimate me. And if they think they can keep me away from you—”

 

“What about me, Allison? I’m here to gain the skills I need to have a life when this war is over, to get a profession. If I get sent home, that will never happen. I need this.” Lydia knew her voice was getting too loud, that her breath was coming too fast.

 

“Lydia, coming back to camp and seeing you is one of the main reasons I can make it out there. I’ve watched so many of my friends die, but as long as I get to come back here, have you fix me up, take walks with you, see you smile, it’s all worth it. What if I need _you_ , Lydia?”

 

Lydia choked on air. It felt like she had taken a sharp blow to the gut.  “ Are you asking me to choose between you and my career?”

 

“No, Lyd, that’s not what I’m saying. I just—”

 

“How can you do that when—” She sobbed, quickly bringing her hand up to cover her mouth.

 

Allison’s face softened. “When what?”

 

“When you can’t even promise me you’re going to come home!” A huge sob rolled from the pit of her stomach, up through her throat and broke like a wave out of her gaping mouth.

 

“Of course I’ll come home!”

 

“You can’t... You can't know for sure.”

 

Allison allowed the tears she was holding to run down her flushed cheeks. Beside her, Lydia struggled for breath, hacking sobs shaking her whole body. She brought a balled fist up to her face and wiped away the tears.

 

When she could once again control the air going in and out of her lungs, she began: “It has been so, so hard. Every time you leave this base, I don’t know if you are going to come back. I barely sleep." She willed air into her lungs, "I can hear them, all the people who die around you. I just have to lie there, waiting to hear your voice, waiting to _feel_ you dying. When you’re around, I have to force myself to push down everything I feel about you because I can’t fall in love with someone just to watch them die.”

 

Allison stepped closer, reached out to catch Lydia's flying hands. “You love me?”

 

Lydia made a move to step back from the taller girl, arms held rigid. “Did you hear a word I said? I can’t.”

 

Allison moved even closer. She slid one of her hands into Lydia’s, placed the other on her hip, running her fingertips lightly over the starched white material. Lydia turned her face to the side, trying to replace some of the space Allison had just closed. Their faces remained close enough that Lydia could feel Allison’s shallow breathing against her cheek.

 

“Do you love me?” 

 

Lydia turned her head, bringing their eyes level. “Goddamn it. You know I do. And it’s terrifying.”

  
  


“That’s all I need, Lydia. If you love me, there is nothing that can stop me from coming home to you.”

 

* * *

 

The first night they kissed, Allison had used the brisk wind as an excuse to pull Lydia's small body into her. As she wrapped her arms around her shoulders, pulled her tight against her chest, Lydia had pushed out a breathy laugh.

 

“What?” Allison smiled against her cheek.

 

“Just, this. I should be scared right now.”

 

“Why would you be scared?”

 

Lydia dropped her head, “I don't know. Scared of how I feel. Scared of being caught. Scared about the future.”

 

“But you're not?”

 

“No,” she smiled, turning to face the brunette, “right now I just feel like I'm home.”

 

Allison couldn't help but surge forward and capture Lydia's lips with her own, trying to channel everything into that one kiss.

 

After that, they would sneak off base on their walks, ducking into open fields to run and talk and kiss.

 

When Allison pulled Lydia down on top of her and kissed her, hungry and loving and open, Lydia had let go of her last inhibitions and given herself to it.

 

* * *

 

One of the other nurses, Erica, had showed them the contraband one evening when Allison had come to get Lydia after her shift. It was bulky and black, the name “Argus C3” emblazoned across it. Erica told them that her father believed the day-to-day lives of the people on base should be documented, and he had sent the camera in her last care package.

 

“Go on,” she smiled, holding it in front of her face, “let me get a photograph of you two.”

 

Lydia smiled bashfully. Allison grabbed her around the waist and pulled the nurse's body into her own. They both smiled, big and genuine.

 

* * *

 

There was a lull in the fighting just as night started to wane. Allison dropped her bow and arrow before collapsing into the dirt of the embankment, exhausted. She opened her pack, going in search of some bread—they had only been on assignment for a few hours and it would still be edible. At the top of her pack, to her surprise, sat a small photograph. It was crisp and new, the finish still undamaged. In it was a couple, two women, one in soldier's fatigues and smiling widely at the camera, the other in a nurse's uniform and smiling but looking at the officer. The look the nurse wore was undoubtedly fond, loving. Allison laughed, a childlike sound that bubbled out of her throat before she could stop it. Boyd, one of her fellow officers, raised his eyebrows as he dropped down beside her. Allison held up the photograph by way of explanation.

 

“So that's the one.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“The girl you've been disappearing away with. The nurse.”

 

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

 

“Mhm. Okay, Lieutenant. How did she get this?”

 

Barely able to speak through her smile, Allison shrugged and told him, “I have no idea. We only took it a month or so ago.”

 

“Well, you better thank her.”

 

“I intend on it.”

 

* * *

 

Lydia felt all wrong. She felt like a ball of rubber bands. Her nerve endings were singing and she had no idea why. At least, not until she heard that La Bete Company had left in the middle of the night, alerted to a  _Gestaltwandler_ unit moving in the nearest town. 

 

When she heard, Lydia ran straight to the Company's tent, hoping that for some reason Allison had not gone with them. When she found it empty, she lay down on Allison’s cot, her head feeling like it was about to explode. That feeling began to spread to the rest of her body, like it was being filled up with hot air, the pressure getting so much that Lydia began writhing around the cot, not sure of how to make it stop.  It hurt, made her feel like she was on the verge of losing her mind. Without warning, a scream ripped through her chest and out of her mouth. Allison’s name. 

 

A young private ducked his head inside the tent, concern written all across his face, but Lydia could not stop screaming. It continued until it felt like her lungs had compacted, squeezed themselves so tight that they may never regain their former capacity. Her scream had just stopped ringing in her own—and everyone nearby's—ears when she began to hear the commotion outside of the tent.

 

“Medic! Medic!” someone was screaming. The voice was gruff, panicked, pained. Lydia rushed to locate the sound. It was the Major of the La Bete Company. When Lydia realised they were carrying a stretcher, things began to move in slow motion. She pushed herself off the ground hard and ran to the Medics' tent. Silken black curls hung over the end.

 

“Allison!” She knew she was crying. She knew she was screaming. She didn’t care. She dropped to her knees beside the bed, searching for a wound. It didn’t take long to notice the huge dark wetness underneath the Lieutenant’s ribcage. She moved to press her hands to it, to do something to stop the bleeding. She was passively aware of the other nurses moving around her, of the medical officer informing them they had given her morphine so she was no longer conscious. Lydia looked at her face. Her eyes were closed heavily but her dry lips were moving slowly, like the sounds had caught on her tongue.

 

“Allison, Ally, can you hear me?” Lydia cried, moving to touch her chin, her fingers finding the scar she had asked about a lifetime ago, smearing it with blood. “You can’t do this to me. Do you hear me? You made me a promise. Don’t you dare do this to me!”

 

Lydia felt hands gripping her upper arms, pulling her to her feet, moving her away from the bed. She snapped her focus to Erica’s face.

 

“Lydia, look at me. I know how much this is hurting you, but you can’t be here. You are not helping. You’re just getting in the way. We’ll take care of her.” Lydia turned her head to look at Allison. Erica moved to once again gain her focus. “I promise.”

 

All Lydia could do was nod numbly and leave the tent. The feeling of live electricity underneath her skin, that sense of overwhelming dread, did not dissipate any until Erica stood in the doorway of the mess hall and cleared her throat.

 

“She’s asleep, but she’s stable. Do you want to see her?”

  
  


* * *

 

“What happened, Major? How did this happen?” Lydia voice was as small as she felt.

 

The man sitting in the chair beside Allison’s cot looked up, eyes red. He rubbed his hand across his salt-and-pepper beard. His eyes were tired and he had not cleaned the blood from his hands.

 

“This team, they weren’t like any of the others we faced. They didn’t fight the way other werewolves do. Al—the Lieutenant was lining up a shot from her vantage point when one came up behind her and,” a sob broke through his voice, “stabbed her, with a bayonet. We retreated, we weren’t far from here.” He paused. “We’re lucky we could get back so quickly.”

 

Lydia nodded, letting silent tears fall down her cheeks.

 

“You’re her, aren’t you? The one she talks about.”

 

Lydia was suddenly scared. They had agreed that, until they could get off site, no one was supposed to know about them. Allison's position was already precarious and Lydia needed to complete her training.

 

She swallowed hard before she raised her eyes to the weary pair facing her, “Major?”

 

“I’m not asking as an officer.”

 

“I’m not sure I understand.”

 

“Please, sit.” He gestured to the chair beside him. Lydia tentatively took a seat beside the Major, leaning in towards him. He continued, “I’m Chris. Chris Argent. Allison is my daughter.”

 

Lydia couldn't help the gasp that passed her lips. “Sir. I didn’t realise. I am... I’m Lydia.”

 

“This was not how I wanted to meet you, Lydia, but she’d want you here. I’m not sure what your relationship with my daughter is right now, I know how risky it would be for the two of you… Anyway, I know my daughter cares a great deal about you. I hope you feel the same for her.”

 

All Lydia could do was nod.

 

Chris smiled tightly, dropping his head in a short nod. He fell asleep shortly after that. Lydia guessed that it was knowing someone would be there when Allison woke up that allowed him to finally let the exhaustion take over. Lydia would be there. In fact, Lydia barely left the chair beside the cot, her heartbeat standing still every time the injured soldier turned in her sleep, or made a pained noise.

 

Watching her, Lydia knew that Allison Argent was it for her. She wanted a shoebox apartment, somewhere that would accept them, Lydia working in a children's hospital, Allison teaching French. She wanted long walks on the banks of a river, and summer days on the beach, and kissing under the mistletoe at her mother's Christmas party. She wanted to spend her whole life waking up to that beautiful smile and those sparkling eyes and those dimples that made her stomach somersault. Lydia wanted a lifetime with Allison. 

 

* * *

 

A week later, Lydia was so tired she almost didn’t notice Allison’s head dropping to the side so that she was looking at her. Her eyes opened slowly, slightly clouded and dazed.

 

“Lyds?” What sound did come out was gruff, starved of water.

 

Lydia gasped. She dropped out of her chair on to her knees by the cot, grabbed her hand. Tears sprang to her eyes.

 

“I’m here, I’m here Allison.”

 

“Water.”

Lydia blinked, feeling confused for a second, before she jumped to attention. She brought a small paper cup of water from the bedside locker to Allison's mouth, warning her to drink it slowly. When Allison croaked her thanks, Lydia reoccupied her space on the floor, with Allison's hand firmly clutched in her own.

 

“You scared the hell out of me.” There was no anger in Lydia's voice, just an overwhelming sense of relief.

 

“Why?”

 

Lydia couldn’t help but breath out a small laugh. 

 

Allison lightly patted the large bandage around her midsection.  “ This little thing?” Her lips pulled back, emphasising her dimples. Lydia nodded silently, tears flooding her heated cheeks.

  
Allison reached up, running a finger along Lydia's jaw, moving her head so they were looking right into each other's eyes. Allison, despite her pallor, looked happy.

 

“ I told you. I told you I’d come home to you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I know Boyd is a werewolf and all, but like, I totally feel like he'd be down for hunting shitty werewolves. Plus, Allison & Boyd are one of my fave brotps because I feel like they're kind of similar and I just think, if they had have had the chance they would've been bessies.
> 
> Also, the Argus C3 is a model of camera that was available around the time and could have been smuggled on to a base. In theory, Erica could have sent the film home in her correspondence and then got the developed pictures with her next letter from home. 
> 
> This hasn't been beta'd so let me know anything I missed/messed up on/could improve on.


End file.
